


Fried Banana Sandwiches

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Graceland (Album)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 04:56:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1996, Sam and his dad reflect on a trip they once took to the cradle of the Civil War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fried Banana Sandwiches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laylapalooza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylapalooza/gifts).



When he was nine, Dad had taken him to visit Graceland. Mom and Dad had been divorced for two and a half years, and they'd finally stopped yelling at each other when they thought Sam was asleep or not paying attention. "I want to tell you," Dad said on the drive there, "that no matter what happens, Mom and I will always be there for you. We love you very much."

Sam was old enough to think it would've been nicer if Dad had said that two and a half years ago, and wise enough to realize that he shouldn't point that out. So he'd stayed quiet, poking at Elvis book Dad had bought for the trip. Sam didn't know much about Elvis, and his dad had never seemed like much of a fan, but there they were, headed for Graceland.

Graceland was _weird,_ and strange, and Sam kind of loved it, the cars best of all. "Can I have a pink car like this?"

"No," Dad said, shaking his head, but he was smiling. "When you get bigger, maybe you can buy yourself one."

"You think so?" Sam had asked.

"Sure." Dad grinned. "You about through?"

"No," Sam said. "I wanna look at the cars again."

"Which ones?"

"All of them!"

"Of course," Dad said, so they'd looked at the cars again, all of them. Then they'd had fried peanut-butter and banana sandwiches, which were even better than they'd sounded. Dad promised he'd make more once they got home.

It was the best trip of his life.

A year after that, Dad moved to Cincinnati, and Sam mostly saw him on holidays. He married an artist from New York City. She sent him canvases and oil paints, and Sam brought them to his art teacher and mostly learned to use them. She came to visit his first year at RISD, and paid for a lot of his supplies, called him her son in front of strangers. It was nice, except sometimes he worried what Mom might think. But Mom seemed to like his stepmother a lot more than she liked Dad, so Sam figured it was okay.

A decade after their trip, Dad stopped by Sam's apartment with a jar of peanut butter and a bunch of bananas. Sam fried sandwiches up on the stove, and Dad sat at the table and talked about Graceland. He remembered stuff Sam had forgotten; the woman Dad had broken up with, the devoted Elvis fans who held their souvenirs like holy relics. "I was afraid you were too young," Dad said, "but you had a good time. I just figured it was something we should do, you know? Sometimes I wonder if it made you an artist, all those decorations and--" he waved his hand vaguely-- "bling."

"Don't say 'bling,' Dad," Sam said. "Even I don't say 'bling.'"

"Well, whatever," Dad said. "It was something, wasn't it?"

"It sure was," Sam said, flipping the sandwich over to check if it was done.


End file.
